


flour in your hair

by sprinkles888



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bakery, Bakery, Gen, Gen Work, give me gen fic or give me death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-22
Updated: 2017-10-22
Packaged: 2019-01-21 03:39:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,104
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12448893
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sprinkles888/pseuds/sprinkles888
Summary: Flour is in everything they own, woven deep into their clothing, clinging to their shoes. Dean likes to joke that his blood is probably just flour in liquid form.Or, another bakery AU





	flour in your hair

**Author's Note:**

> Listen….listen.. i love this show but let me get one thing clear: i’m fairly disappointed in the shippy-to-gen ratio in the fics. I’m here to do my best to fix that. (and by do my best, i mean write a fic that is gen and...yeah that’s about it.)
> 
> thus i present this fic, which could alternately be titled “why the f r i c k is there no gen!fic bakery AU in this fandom” (y’know, minus the vague references to past relationships as shown in the show, but i still count that as gen so)
> 
> (p.s. if there is, in fact, a gen bakery AU, please inform me of its whereabouts.)  
> (p.p.s. all of my bakery knowledge is from the Interwebs and my high school foods class, so feel free to come yell at me about accuracy at any point in time)  
> (p.p.p.s. this is more of an exploration of….what could be. I don’t have time to sit down and write all of the stories about this bakery that I want to. This will have to work for now.)

[](https://www.flickr.com/photos/161099712@N05/46373674221/in/dateposted-public/)

There’s a dozen and a half reasons for Dean to change the sign out front. It’s old, peeling, and the apostrophe has worn down so far that it looks like the persons who run the shop are vaguely illiterate and have exactly 0.1 clues about how to write possessive nouns.

He leaves it out front, and occasionally mentions thinking about repainting it to Sam, who understands Dean’s reluctance to change it is less about having to go out and buy the paint (his most cited reason for not fixing the sign) or needing a really tall ladder (fourth most cited, and most illogical reason) and more about the fact that Dean remembers watching Dad and Mom build and paint the sign. Sam keeps his comments about it to himself and lets Dean talk about it every four days (three, if someone has recently noticed the missing apostrophe and mentioned it to either brother).

So, the sign stays and Mary’s Bakery does too. It’s a bit of a miracle that they’ve made it so long - with the recession and the dwindling number of small businesses, they logically should have been forced to place a “going-out-of-business” sign up a long time ago. 

If asked, Sam will say that it was the loyalty of customers, the quality of goods, and a pinch of luck that has them sticking around. Dean will snort and point his thumb at wherever Sam is at the moment, rolling his eyes and saying “We got a smart kid working in the back,” which usually leads to Sam throwing his hands up in the air and saying “Dude, you’re in the back way more than I am.”

The customer who asks is usually one of the regulars, and they just smile and pay for their goods, silently agreeing with Dean. When Sam Winchester left for college, it was the only thing the town talked about for weeks - and there had been a very loud falling out between two different married couples during the time, so that was saying something (Lawrence was a larger town that hadn’t yet forgotten the feel of what it was like to be a smaller one). Only the boom of new houses and new families along with Dean’s characteristic stubbornness had kept the small business afloat during those years. 

John left the bakery to Dean when he died. Sam returned for the funeral, all shaky hands and shaggy hair, carrying the death of both his father and his soon-to-be fiance on his back (the town heard only the barest details about the girl Sam Winchester wanted to spend his life with, but it was enough for the pitying looks to carry on for almost two years). Dean struggled through a few words, carried the casket to the spot right next to Mary Campbell Winchester’s tombstone, and towed his brother down to the bank where he got his name on the paperwork right next to Dean’s. 

The two of them had grown up in that bakery, flour in their hair and chocolate coating their lips after finishing off the last of the week’s specialty cookies. Sam had learned to decorate the cakes and dip the doughnuts while standing on the rickety old stool that they still kept in the storage closet, and Dean had been the one sitting on the counter directing Sam’s actions.

The town at large still points to them sometimes, and whispers, “Those are John’s boys, still running that bakery of his.”

Nowadays, it’s Sam who sits in the large office chair and bites the plastic of his pens as he calculates the figures, and it’s Dean alone who drives their daddy’s old Chevy down to the farmer’s market to pick up their fresh goods for the week. 

The bakery was John’s only pride and joy - a sticking point for Sam, who recognized the fact that there were two kids worthy of being called his pride and joys kneading the dough right next to him - and the boys try to respect that idea.

It’s all they have left, really.

 

OoOoO

 

It’s a strangely formal man who likes to wear a trench coat around town (even during the summer) that snags the job.

He gets his own apron set, the nickname CAS printed gaudily on all of them. Dean is the one who ordered them that way.

The position had been opened for a surprising amount of time - it seemed as though no one who applied could get the job. Those who’d been in town for long enough told those who hadn’t the story of two boys who’d grown up in a bakery and a man who’d let it become his life. They talked about the girl who’d broken Sam Winchester’s heart when she’d died in flames, and they talked about the girl who’d smashed it to pieces just a little while ago. No one mentioned to the boys the fact that the _Position Open - Apply Inside_ sign had been there for months.

But when trenchcoat-toting CAS gets the job, no one who manages to find out is surprised to find that he’s hiding from a family that wants him to be someone he isn’t. John’s boys, despite their disproportionate muscle-to-fat ratio and flannel+work boots standard combination, are kind people with soft spots for people in trouble. 

And the regulars tend to laugh with Dean as the new employee manages to accidentally reboot the computer system yet again, so it all works out.

 

OoOoO

 

It’s an awkwardly not-quite-empty time at the bakery when Sam ducks out, leaving Dean to his experimental cannolis and Cas to his table cleaning and small talk with Missouri (who loved the slow pace of the 10-11 O’clock hour so much that she was there every weekday during that time unless her granddaughter was in town). 

Sam walks upstairs, not bothering to dust his hair off yet as he most definitely has flour in it and it will only get worse later when he has to refill any empty plates at the counter as the lunch rush stops by in a flurry of people-orders-food (the truth is, he’d stopped worrying about the flour in his hair after Lucy from his 10th grade chemistry class had stopped by the bakery and called him cute after he’d just had a cup of flour explode in his face when he forgot to add it slowly to the mixer). 

He logs into his laptop and goes through the process of changing his password - again - after he finds that his desktop background has been changed to something rather inappropriate and sadly Dean-like. He pulls up the website that Charlie’s put together and smiles a bit before navigating to Facebook and scrolling through his feed.

Later, Charlie stops by as Sam is closing up and Cas is heading out. Dean is already in bed, getting his sleep before his 4 o’clock shift.

Sam waves a goodbye to Cas, who returns a “Goodnight Sam” as usual before shrugging his trench coat on and slipping out the door (which is not rigged up to a bell as Dean had taken the thing down two weeks after taking full ownership of the bakery, angrily tossing it in the trash, mumbling a quiet “Don’t know why dad kept that up all these years”). Charlie raises her eyebrows and with a grin that sends warning signals down Sam’s spine, pulls her phone out.

“You do know you’re getting internet famous at this very moment, right?”

Sam shrugs and thinks about his laptop all the way upstairs and the panic of out-of-fruit-for-the-pies that had taken place earlier. Charlie’s grin gets wider.

“Okay, okay, like...don’t freak out, but it’s the most hilarious thing, like I may have accidentally-on-purpose made you go viral and… well, it’s like fan-freaking-tastic and-”

“Charlie, hey. Breath.”

She does so and turns the phone in his direction, and Sam sighs before locking the front door. It’s probably going to be a long night.

 

OoOoO

 

Bobby comes around one morning and waves as he knocks on the door. Dean - who’s the only one awake to see him through the glass - fakes not noticing him for as long as he can without laughing, pretending to be deeply interested in the dough he’s kneading.

He’s sure that Sam probably heard the resulting - “I know you can see me you idjit, come open up the door,” - and is doubly sure when he comes lumbering down the stairs, hair even more of a mess than normal, still wearing his pjs. As soon as Dean lets Bobby in, he heads to the coffee pot and pours out a generous serving, sliding it across the counter as Sam greets Bobby before making a pitiful attempt to fix his bedhead.

Bobby rolls his eyes and grabs his coffee, “You boys are lucky I stopped by, looks like you need someone to fix up that siding again.”

Dean squacks out a “What?” and slides himself over the counter to barge out the front door and look around to the side of the building, still wearing his baker’s cap. The resulting angry kick to the dumpster makes a couple of pigeons take flight, and Sam is fairly certain the lady who lives above the sewing shop is going to send in a complaint against Dean’s language again.

“Someone run into the cans again?” He questions, pouring out his own cup of coffee.

“Someone ran into the cans again,” Bobby replies with a wry grin as the dumpster echoes loudly and Dean curses loud enough that Sam is certain Ellen all the way down at the Roadhouse can probably hear him. 

Sam sighs and sips his coffee, waiting for Dean to calm down and come back in. 

Running a bakery isn’t always about the baking, sometimes it’s about the fact that apparently no one in this town knows how to drive.

 

OoOoO

 

Jody stops by sometimes, parking her truck in the back alley and coming in the kitchen door. She always has a smile for whoever’s in the kitchen (usually Dean), and an order for a couple dozen doughnuts for her office. Dean usually makes a joke about police and doughnuts, and Jody usually rolls her eyes, and Sam usually wanders in with the doughnuts halfway through the resulting conversation about the difference between the Sheriff's office and the Lawrence Police Department.

Sometimes though, if the customer flow is slow that day and Jody is on her way home from work rather than on her way to it, they’ll sit down and wave Cas over and talk about the town and the ridiculous things Jody’s seen in the past month. Cas will sometimes work up the nerve to ask about Claire - his niece - and Jody will berate him about needing to come over for dinner. If the conversation steers that way, both Dean and Sam try to make their move to sidle out of it, because if Cas ends up getting invited to dinner, they will be too, and sidling out is a good way to get the Sheriff's attention so that they get some delicious mashed potatoes sometime in the next week. Dean calls it reverse psychology, and Sam rolls his eyes at him.

It usually works, and Dean gets to make a couple of his favorite pies to bring for dessert.

 

OoOoO

 

Way back, in the time before-John-was-gone and before-Sam-left, John had sometimes let the two of them earn the money in the tip jar if they put in enough work to pass his inspections, and they’d sit and spend hours arguing over the design of the jar.

They had a vote once with the jars. Three of them, with a sign reading _Place Your Tips In the Best One!_ in Sam's best lettering.

Both of them were astounded by the fact that their dad’s jar, with the words Fresh Bread Loaves earned the most that week. (Dean was offended by the fact that his Pie jar had placed last, and Sam just took his Doughnuts money and smiled.)

Sam remembers that as one of the only times he’d seen his dad actually laugh - and he still has the dollar coin that got dropped in his jar when his dad split the Bread jar between his two kids, tucked away in a box where he keeps pictures and awards from school.

 

OoOoO

 

Dean is the one who makes the pies. Sam sometimes gets helper privileges, and once, Cas had gotten the title when Sam had been laid up with the flu, but it’s Dean’s specialty. 

He remembers his mom helping him roll out the pie crust on the counter, her hands over his smaller ones, Sam bouncing on his dad’s knee on the opposite side of the island. Mom had rolled her eyes and chastised Dad, telling him to be careful, and he’d rolled his eyes right back and swapped positions with her so that he could place the crust in the pan and hand Dean a fork to crimp the edge. Mom hadn’t been allowed to do that part because, according to dad’s slightly tipsy spiels in later years, she’d been a terrible decorator and baker. 

Dean smiles at the thought sometimes, when drunk enough to think about it without getting upset about the unfairness of the world.

 

OoOoO

 

Sam hates Tuesdays at the bakery. They’re the slowest day of the week, and the sandwich-soup-salad place kitty-corner to their shop is closed so he can’t even pick up salad for lunch and he ends up having to make do with whatever healthy thing is hanging out in the mini-fridge upstairs. 

Dean likes to make fun of him for his so-called healthy obsession, telling him that being a baker comes with the expectation that he isn’t exactly thin, and Sam retaliates by poking Dean’s stomach and asking why he feels muscle there instead of pudge.

Dean never knows how to respond to the backward compliment and usually just hits Sam with a dishrag or slaps his back with a flour coated hand. 

John might not have been in the moment with them a lot, but he’d trained exercise and healthy eating into his kids from an early age, a memory of Mary being worried about the boys eating too much pie and cookie dough and too few veggies prominent in his mind. Sam had taken to the veggies and running, and Dean had taken to the weights and protein. 

When Sam had come back from Stanford, Dean had grit his teeth and kept the bakery going, ordering his brother around whenever he got that lost look in his eyes, and placing cannoli after strudel after slice-of-bread-with-homemade-strawberry-jam in front of him, demanding that Sam gain his weight back.

 

OoOoO

 

They hire Kevin after the big law firm even further downtown than the bakery expands and a wave of middle-aged lawyers and their families move into the new subdivision, bringing a bunch of somewhat angsty teenagers to the summer crowd and their parents to the morning need-to-pick-up-something-for-breakfast rush. Cas takes an earlier shift, facing the suit-and-tablet crowd with a tense jaw and a forced smile, and Kevin picks up a few hours in the middle of the day, helping out Sam as he faces the town's teenage population. 

Dean suggests that they make an employee of the week button after the school year starts again and Kevin sticks around, working the 3 to closing shift while doing his AP homework on the side. Sam and Cas agree, especially after the Sam-hit-a-dog incident when Kevin and Cas had been stuck running the bakery on their own during a busy weekend. 

Mrs Tran, who likes to stop by for a loaf of bread first thing in the morning before she heads to work, thanks them on the regular for giving Kevin a set of friends who aren’t the other AP kids, mentioning the fact that she’d been worried when he first said he wanted to get a job for work experience and how that would work with his schedule every time she does. Cas, who’s usually the one up front at that time, smiles back, a real smile, and shrugs. Kevin deserves the employee of the week button.

 

OoOoO

 

Sam’s the one to convince Dean that they need to hire Charlie, but Dean’s the one who texts her with ideas for the website and socials so often that she likes to joke that he’s the one who should be running them.

She works freelance, and accepts bribery by way of bear claws to quietly roast either brother online, leading to a strangely dedicated fan base, comprised mostly of people who have no reason to want to go to Kansas except for the fact that they want to meet Sam and Dean and try the lauded bear claws. It’s a good situation for all of them, and Charlie is usually willing to fill in whenever Kevin has Olympiad or a concert.

 

OoOoO

 

When Sam made Valedictorian at Lawrence High, he cried a bit, thinking of all the late nights and early mornings and trying to do his homework and study for his tests while his dad breathed down his neck about helping out with the family business and how it’d all been worth it.

He told Dean first, who’d laughed and noogied him and ruffled his hair with flour coated hands and congratulated him loudly. (For the next three weeks, it was the only thing Dean talked about when manning the counter. “Yeah, Sammy made Valedictorian,” “Did you hear about my little brother?”)

When he told his dad he’d received an acknowledging grunt and an order to go grab the batch of doughnuts from the other counter.

 

OoOoO

 

Sundays are a busy day, both because of the fact that many of the people in town had gotten in the habit of stopping by the bakery after church all the way back when John and Mary had first opened it, and because it’s inventory day. Cas works a double shift on Sundays, spending most of it wandering in and out of the freezer and pantry, triple-checking the ingredients and supplies and quadruple checking the stuff Dean had bought at the farmer’s market that morning. 

Sam works the counter on Sundays, and smiles as people wander in and order the same things they’ve been ordering since he was old enough to work the register, kids doodling on napkins with the crayons they place at every table and excitedly showing him so that he can put them up on the napkin art wall of fame. 

It was Bobby who started the wall of fame by drawing the Impala on his coffee stained napkin for a six-year-old Dean, who thought the Impala was the most important car in the entire world. John had rolled his eyes when he saw his boys trying to tape it up behind the counter - Sam holding the tape in the hand that wasn’t stuck in his mouth - but had graciously taped it up on the empty space beside the menu. The tradition had stuck around, and Sam has gotten used to having to rotate the napkins out about every week so they don’t run out of room (Bobby’s Impala, however, is still in its spot of glory).

 

OoOoO

 

Dean experiments sometimes, yelling a, “Have we tried bizcocho yet?” or, “Do you think we should try eclairs again?” up to Sam, who inevitably approves most experiments but vetoes any attempt to make eclairs again. 

Dean still tries to make eclairs. It never works.

 

OoOoO

 

Pastor Jim stops by sometimes, sipping a coffee and laughing with Sam about the fact that they haven’t changed the sign yet or happily eating a slice of rhubarb pie while Dean rearranges the display case.

 

OoOoO

 

They play music in the kitchen, but only rock. It’s Mom’s music, and Dean’s music, and Sam’s only connection to what might have been. He remembers Dad looking on with a melancholy look on his face as he and Dean dug through the tape collection - Dean looking for the tape that might make Dad smile a bit in pride, and Sam looking for the tape that has that Zeppelin song on it that will make Dean grin.

 

OoOoO

 

Sometimes, when dad was drunk and Dean knew they’d have to get up to make the bread in the morning, he and Sam would sneak out back to where the Impala was parked and shove a soft rock cassette in the portable player Sam had begged his dad for during the run up to Christmas. They’d fall asleep with Dean in the front seat and Sam in the back, relying on the sun to wake them up in time to let the dough rise. 

 

OoOoO

 

Sam likes to decorate the cakes. They generally have a reliable demand for them, as the grocery store cakes are notoriously gross, and people in Lawrence really love to celebrate things that usually don’t need celebrating.

(Sam probably decorated at least forty “Happy Half-Birthday” cakes by the time he turned twelve.)

And while it’s true that Dean’s good at frosting things and decorating, it’s Sam who has a flare for it and a love of the fondant that makes Dean queasy to think about. 

Dean has his pies and Sam has his cakes and they both have the doughnuts and bread and Cas has his surprisingly popular tea. It works.

 

OoOoO

 

Dean’s kneading bread when Sam wanders downstairs, his trusty work boots clomping on the tile as he turns the corner and tugs his hair back, pulling his hat on. He grabs the dough next to Dean’s and starts kneading. Foreigner is playing in the background and neither of them have slept well.

Sometimes they both feel a bit off-put, like they’ve missed a step. And sometimes it doesn’t go away for weeks.

They work through it though, directing their anger at each other and at the world into the dough, punching and pushing and kneading.

Sometimes it works.

And sometimes they spend nights in the Impala, the smell of flour and coffee worn deeply into the seats from the times John had declared the bakery was closed that day and driven off with flour still in Sam’s hair and Dean trying to balance his Dad’s coffee while not being flung against the door as they took turns too fast.

(They drove for hours sometimes, and Sam only asked why once. He never got an answer.)

 

OoOoO  


 

Garth likes to surprise them with inspections, mostly because he’s addicted to the food and neither brother is above bribing him with pastry if it means they don’t have to go through a double check (Garth doesn’t tell them, but he hasn’t found anything wrong with the place since Sam got back, he just really likes the fact that they don’t make him pay for the food they bribe him with).

 

OoOoO

 

Sometimes their schedules work out and Cas and Charlie take over close up so that Sam and Dean can head to bed early. When this happens, they usually go upstairs and pop open two beer bottles before turning on the TV to some horror movie or action flick. They’ve shared a room for most of their lives, and the line of tape that divided the room into two sections back when they were both in high school is still there, a bit rough around the edges. Sam’s side is filled with books. Dean has a guitar under his bed and posters on his wall and his Associate’s is trapped underneath the magazines in his nightstand.

Dad’s bedroom is a storage area, neither of them willing to take over the space they’d been told not to enter throughout their childhood. The back deck is Sam’s space, and the kitchen is Dean’s and they make it work.

 

OoOoO

 

“Do you ever think about what you’d do if you didn’t own the bakery?”

“Probably go work in another one.”

“Dean - I mean if you hadn’t grown up in the business. What would you want to do?”

“I dunno man...Cars maybe? I liked working at Bobby’s place during the summer.”

“Do you ever wish dad hadn’t raised us here?”

“No time to wish for stupid things.”

“...”

“...”

“Night, Dean.”

“Night, Sammy.”

 

OoOoO

 

Mary’s Bakery is old enough that the teenagers who come in like to call it retro. The walls are weird wood paneling and they write the menu on a chalkboard that’s been around as long as Sam has. They had to redo the flooring after dad died because it was just plain old disgusting, and the tables are weird and rickety and some of them have initials carved into them. They make it work. 

Charlie posts filtered photos of the bakery on their Instagram, and multiple customers like to do the same with their own. It works out.

 

OoOoO

 

Dean likes to take charge of the display case, usually refusing Sam’s help in any way other than to hand him things. The case is the focal point of the bakery, and it’s Dean’s favorite part of the entire place, including the kitchen.

They have labels for everything, a pie display, a computer at the counter.

John hadn’t had any of that - had downright yelled at Sam when he’d first brought up the idea to change the case.

When he died, Dean refused to change anything for almost an entire year. However, once Sam managed to break through to him with a mix of loving support and decreasing sales numbers, Dean started to change things, starting with the pie display, lovingly placed in a position of honor atop the right side of the counter.

Sam had the labels and the computer. Later, Cas reorganized the coffee counter (adding his tea) and the milk fridge. Kevin started to point out the products that needed to be displayed at lower levels for the kids.

It was Dean’s display, but it was everyone’s work.

 

OoOoO

 

Sam sometimes walks upstairs after close-up and finds Dean playing his guitar, especially if it’s been raining.

It makes Sam nostalgic because it reminds him of Jess playing the guitar (which had always reminded him of Dean playing in a weird circle of memory).

Dean likes to sing along to American Pie. Sam has fallen asleep to Dean’s quiet - _and we sang dirges in the dark_ \- many times.

 

OoOoO

 

They have school groups come in sometimes, and the Girl Scouts have an annual recurring trip. 

Sam’s the one to take care of logistics, but Dean’s the one who lets the kids decorate their own cupcakes and see inside the old-fashioned bread oven that had come with the place when their parents had bought it. 

Sam likes to lean against the doorframe and watch as the kids faces light up when Dean shows them how they coat the doughnuts. 

He lost that spark of excitement for baking a long, long time ago.

 

OoOoO

 

They mill their own flour. The machine has broken down on them so many times that Dean has Benny’s number on speed dial. They don’t think about replacing it, it’s one of the machines that has been there as long as they have.

 

OoOoO

 

They do events. Lawrence has a fondness for parades and parties and pastries, so when things come around, they’ll pick up the trailer from Bobby and drag themselves and their food to wherever the crowds are. They make good money, and always get a few phone numbers. Dean’s the only one who ever calls any of them.

Sometimes, the crowds thin a bit, and one of them will get to wander the fair or parade or booths while the other mans the battlestation. Everyone knows them, so they get stopped a lot. They grew up in Lawrence, have been serving some of the people their bread for years.

They still feel like outsiders sometimes.

 

OoOoO

 

Flour is in everything they own, woven deep into their clothing, clinging to their shoes. Dean likes to joke that his blood is probably just flour in liquid form.

Sam’s seen Dean bleed, and he doesn’t like the joke very much.

 

OoOoO

 

Crowley’s the big man at the law office, and he has a serious addiction to their in-house specialty croissant sandwiches. 

He also has a serious problem with insulting everyone who works at Mary’s, but he makes them enough profit that they usually let it go.

One of his favorite insults used to be referring to the fact that Sam and Dean had a serious flannel fashion problem. They changed the name of his favorite croissant to Plaid Perfection.

He stopped insulting their wardrobe, and moved on to other things.

 

OoOoO

 

The day starts with Dean making pie in the kitchen while the bread cooks and ends with Sam in the hospital.

Dean was never a praying man, but Pastor Jim had taught the two of them how to be.

He prayed and prayed and cried a bit.

Dad had always said that grief was purely selfish. In that moment, Dean could see his point because he could not imagine himself without Sam.

He knew that if Sam didn’t make it out, neither would all of Dean, and neither would the bakery, the only thing that they had left of mom.

The only thing they had left together.

Cas had been the one to sit next to him at the hospital and the one to drive the two of them home when Sam was finally released.

Cas was the one to cover Sam’s shifts while he was healing up and the one to start the bread in the morning when Dean had to sit down with his head in his hands for a while.

 

OoOoO

 

Cas leaves for a while during the summer once.

He comes back pale and shaky and just mumbles something about ‘family problems’ whenever Dean tries to interrogate him or Sam stops to talk to him in the kitchen.

They find out that Cas lost the apartment he’d been renting from his cousin and head upstairs to clear out their dad’s old room.

 

OoOoO

 

Mary’s Bakery stands quiet and proud in Lawrence, and the boys do too. Dean travels to the farmer’s market in his Chevy, and Sam figures the numbers. Claire comes to work for them part-time when Kevin leaves for college and Cas learns to make baguettes. Jody stops by even more once Claire starts working there, and Mrs. Tran never stops coming by for her loaf of bread every Monday morning. 

Bobby fixes the siding and Benny replaces parts in their machines. They don’t change the sign out front.

They make it work.


End file.
